


If It Must Be Done, Do It Quietly

by helens78



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-20
Updated: 2005-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to train when you're so aroused you can hardly breathe.  There are quiet ways to take the edge off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Must Be Done, Do It Quietly

Bruce is going to go insane.

He's exhausted past anything he's ever experienced, aching in -- as cliche as it is to think it -- places he never knew he had, and despite all that he goes to bed every night so hard he thinks he'll break.

It's not the sort of thing you let on about in situations like this. He didn't jerk off in prison because he didn't want the men there thinking of him sexually. He hasn't done it here because--

That's the problem. He already thinks of Ducard sexually. There's a ferocity to him, a sense of coiled power that Bruce can't quite put a finger on, but he knows it must have a sexual element. He can see it in the way Ducard moves, can feel it when Ducard's hands are on him to check for injury or soothe knots from muscles.

_So what do you have to lose?_

Nothing. And he can't hold back another night. He _can't_.

He slides an arm under the blankets, undoes the drawstring of his pajama bottoms. The elastic waistband gets shoved to his thighs, and he grips the base of his cock, arching his head back and biting his lower lip to keep the groan in.

He hasn't made a sound.

_Ducard must do this_, he thinks. Ducard _must_ do this some nights. Ducard isn't afraid of anything. He isn't afraid of sensuality; his touches prove that. He isn't afraid to show Bruce when he's pleased, when he's tired, when he's angry.

He's done this. He must have done this. It's only that Bruce hasn't caught him at it yet.

The thought of Ducard touching himself this way makes it even harder to stay quiet. _How does he touch himself?_ Bruce wonders. _Is it like this -- oh, God -- soft and slow? Or is he rough and fast? Does he use his other hand this way -- does he -- fuck -- does he cup his balls with it, roll them in his palm? Or does he leave it relaxed on his thigh like this, so he can focus on that one hand, the -- Christ -- slow motions of one hand on his cock..._

Bruce has a rhythm now, and he's pleased with himself that his breathing's still even, still silent. _God_, he's needed this. He's been hard every day he's been here. He's been hard since the first time he took a blow from Ducard and forced himself to get up to take another. He's been hard every time he's lost a fight, and every time he's won a word of praise. It's a wonder he hasn't gone mad.

He has to hold his breath when he comes, and even then the jerk of his cock in his hand and the pulse of come over his fingers seem intense enough to provide a sound. They aren't -- surely that's just his imagination -- but he opens his eyes and squints over to Ducard's futon across the room, wondering if he's heard anything.

Ducard's on his side, one arm curled under his head as a pillow, the other resting on his thigh.

Bruce winces, suddenly feeling sticky. The come's going to leave a mess; if Ducard weren't watching, he'd simply bring his hand to his lips and lick it clean, but...

"Someday you'll learn to judge which things you should take care to hide and which secrets are already known to those around you," Ducard murmurs. "Good night, Bruce."

Bruce closes his eyes. "Good night," he whispers.

_-end-_


End file.
